


Nope, Still Queer

by Comicbooklovergreen



Series: More than One Kind of Soulmate [3]
Category: Agent Carter - Fandom, Captain America (Movies), Carol (2015), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Abby likes USO girls, Friendship, Gen, Stegginelli, Stegginelli are rough on beds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicbooklovergreen/pseuds/Comicbooklovergreen
Summary: Sequel to 'Playdates' and 'The Lost Girls.' Carol tells Abby everything. Except for the part about befriending Captain America and his wives.Two unconventional families form an unbreakable bond. Tracing a friendship and a family through the years.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of fluff and humor because I needed it after last week. Next installment will feature some angst.

Carol was fairly certain they’d never had celebrities in the shop before. So far it was turning into quite the experience.

“You broke your bed,” Carol repeated, trying very hard to stay professional about it.

“Yup,” Angie said cheerfully, perhaps proudly as she browsed through their selection of bedframes. “Destroyed, really.”

“That’s overstating a little,” Steve argued, though Carol thought she saw him blushing.

“No, it really isn’t,” Peggy said. She stood a few feet back from Steve and Angie, running red-laced fingertips over dark mahogany.

Steve was definitely blushing.

“Lizzie made it seem like ‘Uncle Howard’ could build anything,” Carol said, forgoing her attempt at hiding an amused smile. “Not that I’m not grateful for the business.”

Angie made a dismissive noise and studied the pattern of an oak headboard. “Uncle Howard’s a moron when it comes to decorating. We went to him last time and sure the thing was sturdy, but it looked like a torture device. An ugly torture device. I want to be comfortable after a long day, not feel like I’m climbing into the bed of Frankenstein.”

“Naturally,” said Carol. She’d wait until they were off business hours to ask about “last time” and just how often this problem arose for them.

For long minutes they were the only ones in the shop, which was how her friends/customers preferred it. Carol made suggestions and listened to them debate and continued to be terribly amused. And then Abby came in from the back.

“I thought you were taking the afternoon,” Carol said, slipping away from the other three and talking quietly to Abby. She tried not to sound like she’d been caught at something.

“I was,” Abby said, briefly eyeing the three people with their backs to her.

As it turned out, a delivery scheduled for tomorrow somehow couldn’t wait that long. A last minute change, something Abby simply had to coordinate herself, for reasons Carol didn’t fully understand. She was too busy worrying about Peggy, Steve and Angie.

She wasn’t hiding the new friendship, not exactly. The other three hadn’t asked her to hide it, not exactly. But Abby was Abby. Abby had a web of connections to half of New York, it seemed. And Abby was not above a healthy round of gossip, especially after a few healthy rounds of drinks had been served.

Also, Abby was currently staring at her with narrowed eyes.

Before she could ask, and Carol was quite certain she would have, the delivery people showed. They were dropping off several pieces Abby bought at a steal after some intense and impressive negotiations.

It was fine at first. Abby was too busy supervising the delivery to interrogate Carol. And then one of the young men in coveralls lost his grip or his footing and bashed one of those hard earned dressers into one of the end tables his colleague was moving. Carol winced and watched Abby lay into the man, preparing to join in.

Angie said something about clumsy oafs. Carol had almost forgotten her friends were still here. Angie then told Steve to go do their job for them and he jogged forward.

“He’s real good about following orders. When he wants to be,” Angie said.

Peggy hummed agreement, said conversationally that Steve’s skill and eagerness at following orders was to blame for their ongoing furniture problems.

Carol could only watch as Steve hefted very heavy furniture without a sign of strain. Abby watched too, stared incredulously as he gave her a pleasant greeting, heading toward the storage room that Carol pointed out.

Abby looked from his retreating form to Carol, to Angie and Peggy, then back to Carol. “Carol,” she said as the now unnecessary moving men shifted awkwardly near the door, possibly waiting for a tip, “a word please?”

Lacking a better option, Carol followed Abby to the small office in back of the shop. The door wasn’t even closed before Abby pounced.

“Why is Captain America out there moving our inventory?”

“He was asked to,” Carol said, not dishonestly.

“Carolyn Ross Aird.”

Carol rolled her eyes. “Abigail Marie—”

“What is Captain America doing in our shop?”

“Moving inventory. Because he was asked to.”

Abby made a hand gesture she never would in front of customers and threatened to graze Carol with her car.

“Looking for bedframes.” Carol sighed, then frowned. “How is it that you know Steve Rogers on sight?”

“Doesn’t everyone? How is it that you refer to Captain America as Steve Rogers?”

“Abby.”

Abby swore at her, called her a nitwit and told an abbreviated tale of a USO event featuring Steve. It also involved Abby herself, a woman Carol vaguely recalled as being very blonde and working in a hair salon, and at least one USO girl.

“You remember a few weeks ago I told you Therese and I met some women at the park, women like us?” Carol asked, though half her mind was still on Abby’s story.

Abby stared, then opened the office door and peeked outside. Steve was whistling, a table in each hand. Peggy and Angie continued to browse. Abby looked at the two of them for a long moment, then back at Carol. “You didn’t say there was a man involved.”

“You didn’t ask, and I didn't think the man part would interest you.” Carol sighed again and held up her hands. Abby looked about ready to hit her with the stapler on the desk. “It’s a long story. It took weeks for Therese and I to even get most of it.”

“But now you have it. And you sell bedframes to Captain America.”

“I have the parts they’ve chosen to tell. And I haven’t made a sale yet.”

Abby stared at her, then looked back into the shop. Steve was walking away from them, heading for the truck and the last piece of furniture. Abby watched him. Watched him very thoroughly, eyes raking over his form and missing nothing. She turned back to Carol with a shrug . “Nope, still queer.”

Carol just looked at her. She had no words.

“I wasn’t that close to him last time. Made sense to check.”

“Check what?”

“Him. Me. If a man like that can’t fix me, save me from sin and damnation, eternal hellfire and all that.” Abby shrugged again. “Oh well.”

Abby then gave Peggy and Angie the same treatment, devouring them with her eyes. Beaming, she left the office, left Carol, and went about introducing herself and talking up the merits of a Victorian piece Angie was eyeing.

**Author's Note:**

> While things in this series are planned out to a certain extent, I'm always anxious to check out prompts. Hit me up on Tumblr if you're so inclined.
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


End file.
